Forgive Your Enemies
by Aesop
Summary: Roswell/Angel 9.  Brody Davis wakes up in Los Angeles after his latest abduction, and he seeks help from a most unusual detective.


FORGIVE YOUR ENEMIES…

DISCLAIMER: The usual. I don't own the characters from BTVS, Angel, or Roswell. I'm writing for fun and not for profit, so suing would be pointless.

AUTHOR: Aesop

SUMMARY: Brody is having problems and he turns to a most unusual detective for help.

RATING: PG-13

Vampires. Fascinating. The existence of the creatures was unexpected, but it was, as a human expression that he found rather apt went, only the tip of the iceberg. Larek set aside the book he had had one of his servants retrieve. The vampire that had crashed the summit had been right. Earth was a far stranger and more dangerous place than they had suspected. His research to date had clearly proven that. What he wasn't seeing was any sort of unified force controlling what the creature had referred to as the 'underground'. Although there were references to the Powers there was no specific information about them. In spite of all his study, he still knew next to nothing about the power structure of Earth's 'underground' or the abilities and limitations of those who had threatened them.

What he did know was that Maras was dead. Healers tending him had made heroic efforts, but had been unable to prevent it. They were still debating over the cause but had come to no real conclusion. Maras' world was in chaos. As there was no clear line of succession, a power struggle had broken out that made the tensions and occasional conflicts between the other worlds seem mild by comparison. Larek tended to think of it as a sign of things to come should the truth about K'var get out. His advisors and close supporters were starting to have trouble maintaining the illusion. 

Bringing the Royal Four back might be the only solution. Trouble was, they didn't want to leave Earth. They might be persuaded, he thought, if he knew more about their situation and about their adopted home world. More information was needed, and quickly. The question was how to get it. He pondered that question long into the night.

**********************************************************************************

Charles Gunn studied his opponent carefully, watching the eyes for any hint as to his next move. His opponent however gave away nothing. "You're bluffing," he said bluntly.

"Make a move," the vampire responded in a neutral tone. "Find out."

"Call."

"Full house," Angel spread his cards on the table and Gunn scowled. "Aren't you glad we're playing penny-ante?" he asked as he raked in the pile. 

"Whose idea was it to play poker with a 250 year-old vampire anyway?" Cordelia grumped, looking at her own dwindling stack of chips.

"Hey, 246." Angel corrected. 

"Isn't it a little odd being sensitive about your age when you don't age?" Wesley asked. Angel shrugged. "One would think that greater age would bring greater distinction," he mused. "It would mean you've survived longer."

"Anyone want to play another hand?" Angel asked, interrupting his friend's speculations. Cordelia declined, and the others quickly followed her example. 

"Next time someone suggests cards," Cordelia began while cashing out, "how about 'Go Fish'?"

No one bothered to comment. _Typical_, she thought, _no one appreciates my humor_. She pulled on her light jacket and headed out the door, leaving Angel, Gunn, and Wesley to their own devices. The evening was still young, at least by the standards of her coworkers, and she pondered going by Caritas. It had become one of her favorite places to unwind, even when she didn't need supernatural guidance from the host. A demon karaoke bar as a hangout, she reflected. There was a time when that would have been a truly depressing thought. 

Her life had turned out so completely different than her high school dreams. She wasn't rich. She wasn't famous. She wasn't a particularly glamorous anything, but she was happy. _Who knew?_ It might have been nice to…

Determined to set aside potentially depressing thoughts of roads not taken and opportunities missed, she turned on the radio and decided on a drive past some of the city's trendier spots. Perhaps the bright lights, glitz, and glamour would cheer her up. Perhaps she'd see a few of the stars she'd never get to rub elbows with. "Sure, nothing depressing about that." Perhaps she was simply feeling masochistic. Why else would she agree to play poker, a game she'd always dismissed as a waste of time and money that was all too scarce?

She had had no intention of stopping anywhere, but when the vision hit she was lucky to be able to stop at all, let alone steer for the edge of the street. The pain faded after a moment, and she looked up to discover she'd managed to stop within inches of rear-ending a police car. "Oh great." The driver had gotten out, clipboard in hand and was coming towards her. Glancing skyward she asked, "how am I supposed to do anything about the visions you send me if I'm dead or in jail? Don't do that while I'm driving!" She unrolled her window a few inches when the officer tapped on her window, painfully aware that she didn't have much time to act on the vision.

"License and registration." He paused when he got a good look at her. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," she gave him her best smile or tried to. The vision had been accompanied by a thankfully brief burning sensation that had left her skin feeling baked like the world's worst sunburn. Whatever the demon was it was planning to incinerate that guy if she didn't reach him in time. "Migraine. Came on kind of sudden. Usually I have a little more warning." It was true, and must have been convincing, either that or the smile was dazzling despite the throbbing in her head. His manner softened and he smiled back. When her name came back with no outstanding warrants he put away the clipboard. 

"You okay to drive?" She nodded and fished a bottle of the prescription painkiller she'd been using lately out of her purse and a bottle of water from between the seats and took the pill while he watched. "Okay. You head straight home, and be more careful." 

"I will. Thank you." As quickly as she could without risking a ticket she pulled into traffic and headed for the spot she had seen in her vision. It was in the hills near the Hollywood sign. The bluff provided an excellent view of the city and was almost deserted that evening. Almost, but not quite.

Driving as quickly as she dared, Cordelia entered a clearing in time to see a man fleeing from a figure that she could only see in silhouette. Its hands glowed, casting the rest of the form in shadow as it pursued him. Cordelia stomped on the gas and pulled directly in front of the pursuing creature. It ran into the car, slamming face down on the hood and bouncing back. She leaned out the window and yelled at the man. "Get in!" He reversed course and jumped into the back seat.

As soon as he was in, Cordelia accelerated and left the demon in the dust. "You okay?" she called back while steering carefully to avoid the trees along her chosen route. It wasn't a road per se, but it was navigable, at least as long as she didn't take her eyes off the trail. She breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled onto a service road leading back to the main highway. 

"Ah, yes. I'm fine. Thank you for your help miss…"

"Chase. Cordelia Chase. You wanna tell me what that was all about?"

"I-I'm not certain… I… I have to go."

"Go where?" There was no response. She glanced at the man in the back seat and saw that her passenger had passed out. She frowned, unsure as to how to proceed. The man was clearly in some sort of trouble, but she would evidently have to wait to find out what kind. With the big scary apparently intent on killing him though, the safest place for him would be the office. Whoever he was and whatever his problem, they would work it out there. 

It was the sound of a car horn and squealing tires that penetrated the fog of sleep and began to bring him around. He opened his eyes slowly, wondering how he could be hearing such noises from his office, then wondering when he had fallen asleep. Being thrown against the back of the seat in front of him woke him completely and he realized he wasn't in his office. "Huh? What?"

An irate female voice shouted something rude from the front seat of the car he found himself riding in before it began to move again. Once underway her tone softened and he realized that she was talking to him, questioning him. "I'm all right," he answered automatically, pushing himself back into his seat and looking around.

"Good. You know, there's this great new invention. You might have heard of it. It's called a seat belt."

"Yes, of course." He fumbled for the belt and quickly strapped himself in. _First things first_, he told himself, _get wherever I'm going alive_. "Where am I?" he asked looking at the passing scenery. Wherever he was, it definitely wasn't Roswell.

"Almost at the hotel," she answered. "You can talk to my boss. I'm sure we'll be able to help you sort out your problem with that big scary guy."

__

Big scary guy? _What's going on?_ He had clearly been abducted again, but this was unlike any of the other times. Clearly the woman driving knew something about what had happened to him, but how would she react to the alien abduction story? Usually all it got him was mockery, but if there was a 'big scary guy' in the picture he might not have any choice. "It's kind of a long story," he hazarded, "and more than a little strange." 

"Don't worry," she assured him, the eyes in the mirror were warm and compassionate, and the most beautiful he had ever seen. "We're used to strange. Its kind of our specialty at Angel Investigations."

"You're a detective?"

"No, but I work for one of the best." She made a sharp right into a parking lot and pulled into a space near the entrance. "Come on."

"Isn't it a bit late for meeting your employer?"

Cordelia shook her head. "Nah, we're night owls." With that she led the way through the door and into the lobby. "Front!"

"If it wasn't funny the first time," a man at the counter commented, not looking up from his paperwork, "what are the odds?" 

Cordelia glanced at her companion. "Nobody gets my humor." Turning back to the man at the desk she cleared her throat. "We've got a customer Wes." That got the man's attention. He looked up and moved out from behind the counter. 

"Good evening. I'm Wesley Wyndham-Price, head of Angel Investigations. How can we be of service Mr…?"

"Davis. Brody Davis. I'm not sure you can help me. It's rather complicated." Wesley gestured him into his office. They settled in chairs and Brody surveyed the small group. In addition to Cordelia and Wesley, there was a tall, pale man in a dark leather duster. Introduced as Angel, he only smiled and nodded. "Um, well, do you mind if I ask a few questions of my own first?" 

Wesley nodded. "Of course, anything."

"What city is this?"

They exchanged confused looks before Cordelia answered. "Its L.A."

"California? How did I… Um, never mind. They usually drop me in the same state I started in at least."

"Who does?"

"The, ah, aliens." Wesley cocked an eyebrow. "I was abducted for the first time a few years back…" He told them about his abduction experiences, and how they had disrupted his life. Ridicule and disbelief greeted him everywhere. He had given up telling the story for the most part. There were a few who believed him; mostly they were others who'd been abducted as he had been. "The last thing I remember before waking up in your car," he glanced at Cordelia, "was working in my office. I don't know how I got here or where I've been." He looked at Cordelia. "You can tell me at least part of it. How did I get into your car?"

Cordelia traded looks with her colleagues, unsure what to make of Brody's claims. She remembered all too well what had happened the last time they had had an alien abduction case. "Well, um, I don't know about aliens, but there was something after you."

"Something?" Brody was genuinely puzzled. "Something as in not human? What else would it be then?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised," she answered. "I found you up on the bluff, not far from the Hollywood sign. You were running from this big guy with glowing hands. I didn't get a very good look at him, but the glowing hands seemed pretty un-human to me. I drove in front of him and he ran into my car. He got up again right away, not even phased. I yelled to get in, and you jumped in the back seat and I left as fast as I could."

Brody stared at her, not sure what to believe at this point. He remembered waking up in a cab after his first abduction and questioning the cab driver. The man had thought he was crazy, but had answered his questions. Brody, the man had insisted, had simply hailed him, gotten into the cab, given terse directions and fallen asleep. Nothing unusual in the least had happened, he claimed, until Brody woke up. Cordelia's story was far more interesting, not to mention frightening. "Did I say anything about it? Why I was running?"

"I asked, but…" Cordelia broke off, uncertain. "Well, you said that you weren't certain and then you said, and I quote, 'I have to go.' You fell asleep then and woke up maybe half an hour later."

"Where did I have to go?" he wondered aloud. Cordelia shrugged. 

"Well," Wesley began, trying to fill the awkward silence with action. "I believe the best place to begin is in your office. We should try to retrace your steps from the moment you were taken."

"Do you think you'll be able to do that? I mean if…"

"Granted there isn't much evidence at this point, but I don't believe a spaceship was involved. It sounds, frankly, more like a case of possession."

"Possession? As in _The Exorcist_?" Opening his mouth to scoff, he suddenly stopped. He was there claiming to have been abducted by aliens, what business did he have being skeptical? "Well I suppose its no stranger sounding than alien abduction. I'm in no real position to cast stones am I?"

"Sounds strange, I know," Cordelia sympathized, "but if we're going to help you, you'll have to keep an open mind."

"Indeed," Wesley nodded. "You may have to accept certain ideas that you have previously believed to be nonsensical." He rose to his feet and fetched a book from his library. "We will, of course, begin with more conventional forms of investigation. Attempting to retrace your steps may well help to narrow our research when we are ready to venture into more, ah, arcane areas. Let's start with your office. Where are you from precisely?"

"I live in Roswell New Mexico. I run the UFO center there." He noticed Wesley's expression. "You find that-" his tone grew slightly defensive and Wesley raised a hand quickly.

"No, no it's not that. I was in Roswell last summer on a case. I just remembered almost dropping in there. I have a theory that many UFO incidents are actually demon related. Unfortunately I didn't have time to pursue it while there." 

"This case involved demons?" 

"I'm really not at liberty to discuss that, confidentiality and all."

Brody nodded, taking a moment to get back on track. "Anyway, I was sitting in my office, just completing some routine bookkeeping. The next thing I know, I'm in the back of Miss Chase's car." He sat up straight suddenly. "Sidney! I need to call home." He stopped suddenly. "What's the date?"

"January 10th," Angel supplied.

"I've been gone two days." He picked up the phone at the counter and started to dial. "My daughter, Sidney, I made arrangements to see that she is taken care of when I disappear like this. I don't like to worry her though." The phone was ringing. After two rings there was an answer.

"Hello? Davis residence."

"Liz?" A moment of silence from the other end. "Liz?"

"Brody? Is that you? Where are you?"

"Los Angeles apparently. What are you doing there?"

"Maria had a last minute date with Michael. Since he took that second job she takes whatever time she can get with him. Do you want to talk to Sidney? I could wake her-"

"No, that's all right. I just wanted to make sure everything was all right."

"Yeah," Liz hastened to assure him. "Everything's fine. You coming back tomorrow?"

"Um, no, actually. I'm getting sick of these abductions. I'm with a private investigator now. He says he can help me figure out what's going on and how to stop it. Do you think you could…?"

"Oh, sure, we'll see to it Sidney's taken care of. Where can we reach you though? If we need to?"

Brody looked around at the counter. Angel handed him a business card from his jacket pocket. "Here it is. Angel Investigations." He read off the number.

"Angel Investigations huh? Okay Brody. We'll take care of things here. Say hi to Wesley and the creepy guy in the black coat for me."

"Um, I will. Bye Liz. Tell Sid I'll be home soon." He hung up and turned to the others in the room. "Liz says hi," he delivered the message dutifully, wondering how she knew the detectives. Wes nodded absently already making a list of the necessary steps for the coming search. Angel, wearing a long black coat he noted, looked slightly hurt.

"We'll start by checking your credit card. Discover if it was used to purchase plane or bus tickets from Roswell." He trailed off, continuing to scribble notes to himself. "Angel, I want you to take Cordelia and check out the scene of the attack. Maybe there's some physical evidence of what happened."

"I should go with you," Brody said decisively. "Sometimes I have vague memories… impressions from when I'm… gone. If I visit a place where I know I was, so soon after it happens, it might trigger a repressed memory." 

Wesley thought a moment. "It could be dangerous if whoever attacked you is still in the area."

"I think its worth the risk," Brody insisted. "I want to get to the bottom of this." Wesley nodded after a moment. "All right then. Let's go." The three of them went out to Cordelia's car. Wesley picked up the phone and began to dial the number of the first airline in the phone book.

**********************************************************************************

"Cordelia," Angel asked from the back seat, "you don't think I'm 'creepy' do you?" His friend looked automatically and rather pointlessly at the rearview mirror, surprised by the question after Angel's long silence. He'd been moping about something when they left, but where had that come from? She glanced at Brody who looked equally startled for some reason, but he said nothing.

"Um, well, I suppose you can be when you want to be. You can be downright spooky when you put your mind to it, but if you mean are you, y'know, in general creepy? No, and remember this is coming from a girl who grew up on a Hellmouth so I know from creepy."

Angel was quiet for a moment before deciding to take Cordelia's reassurance. "Thanks."

Although curious as to what had brought that on, Cordelia opted to concentrate on her driving. Retracing her steps to the bluff was fairly easy. She pulled into clearing and turned off the motor after a careful look around. There was no sign of anyone or anything lurking in the area. "There are weapons in the trunk," she commented as Angel got out. "Just in case." She hit the trunk release, but neither she nor Angel retrieved anything. Their client seemed unsettled enough without having the detectives he had hired carrying axes.

"This is where you found me?" Brody sounded skeptical, not able to imagine what he might have been doing in such a remote location late at night. 

"This is it."

"What were you doing up here?"

"You might not believe me if I told you," Cordelia answered hesitantly.

Brody turned to face her, curiosity piqued. "Try me."

"I had a vision. I saw you running from that thing and knew where to find you." Brody stared for a moment before shrugging. "Told you."

"Vision. Why not? Makes as much sense as anything else that's happened." He let it go at that and began to look around the scene trying to spot anything familiar. Nothing jumped out at him; _fortunately_, he grimaced wondering what sort of mess he was into now. Who or what was the 'big scary guy?' Needing to focus, he turned to Cordelia. "Show me exactly what happened and how. What did you see?"

"Well," she said hesitantly, thinking back. "I came into the clearing just like we did now. You were running from this big guy with glowing hands." She stopped, measuring distances in her mind. "It was about here," she pointed. "You came out of the trees there and ran in front of me." She indicated a point about 10 feet in front of the car. "I pulled to a stop about there, and the big scary bounced off the car. It ran right into me." Angel was on his knees at the spot Cordelia indicated.

"Are you sure this was the spot Cordelia?" She moved to join him. "'Cause I'm not seeing any tracks or any sign that a car has been through here tonight." He pointed to the ground. "The grass isn't disturbed at all." 

"This is the place," Brody confirmed. He walked to a spot close to Angel, his eyes rather unfocused as he looked around. "I came from that direction, through those trees." He pointed toward a narrow trail leading away into the woods. "I was here for a meeting, but the… person I was to meet attacked me instead."

"Why?" Angel moved to stand beside him, not wanting to disrupt the memory but needing answers and hoping that a little prompting would help. Brody didn't answer for a moment, simply letting the memories come. He had discovered that if he tried to force it, to focus on a particular memory, that memory would dissolve like mist. 

"I needed to know something. I-I think the one here to meet me had information…" He shook his head. "I can't remember more than that." He started to walk down the trail. "Maybe I'll remember more if we retrace my steps." He began to walk in the direction from which Cordelia indicated he had run. The trail wound down the slope that led up to the bluff briefly before straightening and leading into an open area at the back of a darkened building. It turned out to be a small, Park Services storage facility. As it was going on midnight, the place was deserted. They circled the building, but Brody saw no trace that anyone had been there in days, let alone in the last couple of hours.

"Nothing," he sighed. "I'm lucky to have remembered as much as I did." He frowned thoughtfully. "I could pull out more if I had the right equipment."

Angel glanced up at him. "Right equipment?"

"Yeah," Brody turned to Angel who had gone back to studying the ground near the edge of the parking lot. "I've got this idea that I might be able to recall some or even all of the abduction using a virtual reality simulator. I've got just about everything I need back at the UFO center, but I've had to do some of the programming myself."

"Sounds complicated," Cornelia opined, not really interested, but not wanting to offend a client.

"I still have a lot of work to do on it, but the theory is sound." He looked around once more. "I don't remember anything else." Angel looked up, puzzled. "As far as I can tell, nothing even happened here."

"Something happened," Angel assured him. "I'm just not sure what." He straightened from the spot where he had crouched in the parking lot. "There are pieces of trail, but not a complete trail." He frowned. "There's part of a fresh skid mark here, but it looks like part of it has been erased. There were footprints on the trail, but they were far apart, and unevenly placed. It's as if…" He trailed off, frowning. "As if some one was trying to erase their trail, but didn't have time to do a thorough job. What I don't get is the way it was done. There's enough evidence to indicate that someone came down that dirt track, erasing their trail as they went and finally got in a car waiting here and left in a big hurry. Strange thing is that even the most careful job of covering a trail leaves traces, but the dirt track leading down here shows no signs of use beyond the odd footprint. Otherwise it looks like no one has been that way in weeks." 

"How's that possible?" Brody asked.

"Don't know," Cordelia answered, "but it's definitely not normal." She shook her head. "Aliens, demons, its all the same when they start getting violent. Let's get back to the office. Maybe Wesley has come up with something."

Angel shrugged. "Maybe. I don't have any ideas at the moment. The trail I'm seeing here doesn't make any sense." He led the way back up the track, stopping to focus his flashlight on various signs that someone else had passed that way, foot prints, broken twigs, trampled leaves. The signs were rare and spaced irregularly along the trail. "The ground here is soft. There should be plenty of footprints or at least signs that someone erased them, disturbed dirt, scuff marks from branch or broom. Something." He reached the clearing and got into the car, brooding.

"Don't worry," Cordelia smiled at Brody, who was growing increasingly concerned by Angel's puzzlement. "We'll figure it out." She led the way back to the car, and they returned to the office.

**********************************************************************************

Wesley was growing frustrated. Not by plane or bus. Not by train or rental car. Their new client's credit card had not been used. That could simply mean that he had paid cash for his tickets, but there was no record of him as a passenger on any airline or bus line. He could have used a fake name. He might have hitchhiked. _Or he might have been picked up by a flying saucer and dropped off at the corner of Hollywood and Vine._

That line of inquiry was proving fruitless so he moved on to another. Had Davis checked into a hotel once he had arrived? It had only been two days and it was conceivable that he had been living out of a car, or simply wandering the streets. There were hundreds of possibilities and he saw no real point in researching hotels and motels. "So what does that leave?" he asked aloud, although there was no one there to hear. He couldn't trace Davis' movements. There were other possibilities, but he would have to wait for Angel and Cordelia to return. Hopefully they would have some new information. If it was possession, there were other options, a possibility at least, of a way to learn about the person behind it. It was worth thinking about anyway.

His coworkers didn't return with their new client for another half-hour. Wesley spent the time making lists of facts and conjectures and possible avenues of investigation as they occurred to him. The Roswell connection was of some concern to him and gave some credence to Davis' claim that aliens had abducted him. He considered calling Roswell and speaking to Max Evans, but he wanted more information. Aliens. The idea just didn't sit right with him and he wasn't sure he bought it at all. There were any number of demons and half demons running around. There were other dimensions as well. Whenever he thought of aliens however, all that came to mind were scenes from old B-movies about alien invasions, _hardly useful_.

Cordelia helped Brody settle in a room on the second floor before heading home. "Don't worry. We've got to work through all the normal possibilities first. We haven't begun to get weird yet."

"Is that supposed to be comforting?"

"Erm, needs work huh?"

"A little," Brody answered dryly.

"We'll work it out. If all else fails, maybe the host will have some ideas." Brody glanced at her questioningly, but Cordelia shook her head. "Long, strange story. Hopefully it won't come to that, um, not that he's not a nice guy," she hastened to add as she busied herself about the room, "but you might find dealing with him a little awkward."

Brody wasn't sure he wanted to know, so he simply said goodnight and Cordelia left quickly, anxious to get home to her own bed. Lacking any change of clothing, and being dead tired anyway, Brody simply stretched out on top of the covers after kicking off his shoes. There was a lot to consider; a lot of questions that needed answering. The biggest question at the moment was where to begin. He had never been one to rely on other people, but he didn't seem to have a lot of choices.

Demons. Possession wasn't something that had occurred to him. Frankly he didn't believe it, but if aliens were a possibility why not demons? It could happen. Couldn't it? Or maybe he was so desperate for some kind of answer he was grasping at straws. He just wanted a resolution or at least some answers. 

It was a long time before he drifted off.

**********************************************************************************

Cordelia didn't wake up at the time she'd intended. Sunlight was streaming through the window, and she could tell by the angle that she had overslept. She reached over and checked her alarm clock and found that it had been turned off. "I know I set that," she murmured to herself, "which means… Denis?" She got out of bed and pulled her robe on. The bedroom door opened, not a necessity for her ghost of a roommate, but it served to show he was there and listening. "What's with the alarm clock? I know I set it." Her day planner lifted off her dresser and opened to the current date showing no appointments. Cordelia sighed. "I know I got in late, but why not let me decide if I need to sleep in? We've got a new client at the hotel."

The day planner bobbed in dejected acknowledgment and Cordelia relented. "I'm sorry Dennis. I know you worry. I'll try to take a day off soon and just relax. I could certainly use one." The ghost seemed to perk up at this, or at least the day planner bounced in a more cheerful fashion. Cordelia had gotten used to her friend's odd method of conveying his feelings and smiled. "Thanks for the extra hour. I gotta hurry though."

She took a quick shower and dressed while Dennis made coffee and some toast for her, knowing her preferences. She took the toast, gulped the coffee and blew him a kiss on the way out the door. Late or not, Cordelia truly did appreciate the extra sleep. It had been in short supply of late with two visions in the last week. 

Keys in hand, mind already on the best route to work, she almost missed the mark on the hood. "What?" She circled the car and stared down at it. Someone had painted a handprint on her hood. "Taggers," she muttered. "Great." She got in the car and started the engine. She'd have to deal with it later; the others were waiting. 

She pulled in next to Gunn's truck and turned off the engine. Composing herself for a day of investigating, assuming Wes had found some new leads, she entered the office. It might take a while, but she was confident that they would be able to help the man. A vision usually meant that the Powers wanted it cleared up. Usually they wanted it quickly.

Gunn was chatting with their new client, making bad UFO jokes that had the man wincing and occasionally smiling reluctantly. "Hey Cordy," Gunn called "how you doin'? Yer runnin' a bit late."

"Fine Gunn. Dennis decided to let me sleep in." Her voice was equal parts fondness and exasperation, and Gunn smiled, knowing how fond she was of her roommate. "Any brainstorms in the night?" she asked, changing the subject.

"'Fraid not. I went to have a look at that tire mark early this morning, but its way too common to be of any use in tracking the car. Wes is thinking the host my be able to help." Cordy nodded, frowning slightly. It wouldn't be the first time they had turned to the green skinned demon for assistance, but it was usually a last resort. 

"Excuse me," Brody broke in, "but who is this 'host'? Cordelia mentioned him last night."

"Um, well," Gunn considered. "The host is hard to describe. He has to be experienced."

Cordelia snickered when she saw the dubious look on their client's face. "Don't worry. He's a great guy, and I'm sure he'll be able to provide some answers if we can't turn up anything else." She glanced up as Wesley emerged from his office carrying a stack of books. "Speaking of which." She walked to the counter as Wesley laid out the books, opening each one to a pre-marked page. "Morning Wes. Any new ideas?" He shook his head, intent on a book written in a language she didn't recognize.

"Nothing yet. Your description of him was rather vague." He hurried on quickly before she could object. "I know you were rather pressed for time. We shall simply begin with what we have. Human shape, glowing hands, able to obscure his trail apparently." He frowned. "I wonder how he managed that. Angel said he found portions of tracks next to undisturbed ground?" Cordelia nodded. "Strange."

"Seems to be the watchword around here," she shrugged. "Well what can we rule out? Anything without a human shape? Anything that doesn't have hands?" Wesley shrugged. "I think I'll get the paperwork started." She moved away before she could manage to irritate him. Wes was easily irritated when deep in research mode. Settling at her desk, she began the tedious work of opening a case file and drafting a preliminary report. She barely heard the brief conversation between Wesley and Gunn but glanced up when the front door opened and Gunn left. It must have been a short trip because she had only finished putting away the case file, complete with summary to date and case notes when the door opened and Gunn came back in carrying a paper sack. 

"Got what you asked for Wes." He looked over at Cordelia. "Hey Cordy, did you know your car got tagged?"

"I noticed," she scowled, coming over to lean on the counter next to Wesley and Brody who were going through a book of 'mug shots.' "It's small, it can be painted over easy."

"Tagged?" Brody asked, seizing an excuse to look away from what he was reading. "An accident?"

Gunn shook his head. "Naw. Car didn't get hit. A tagger is someone with a can of paint. Some of them are real artists, but this guy wasn't."

"At least he didn't just make a big mess on the hood," Cordelia sighed. "It looks like he was actually trying to paint something." She shrugged. "Or he was just wiping his hands."

"Hands?" Wes glanced up, something about the conversation catching his attention.

"Yeah, whoever it was left a handprint in silver paint on my hood." Brody glanced up as well, suddenly intent.

"A silver handprint? Show me." Puzzled, Cordelia nodded and led the way out to the parking lot where both Wesley and Brody stared at the mark on the hood. Brody reached out and touched it hesitantly, rubbing his finger over it. "That's not paint," he concluded, not sounding happy about the discovery.

"Well," Wesley said, looking grim. "I guess that tells us what we're up against." He glanced at their client. "You do indeed have a serious problem Mr. Davis."

"I've seen pictures of this," Brody bent closer, studying it. "But I've never seen one myself. They always fade within a day or two."

"Does that mean I won't have to get my hood repainted?" Cordelia asked, brightening.

"Cordelia," Wes cast her an exasperated look.

"Sorry. So. What's the what Wes? What are we up against?"

"A shape-shifter. I encountered one of these creatures a while back. They can mimic any human they see, and seem to have the ability to control heat." The others looked at him expectantly, but Wesley shook his head. 'The information about the species is limited. I do know that the last one killed several people by literally boiling their blood." A thoughtful look crossed his face. "It is possible the creature can generate some type of radiation unique to the species."

"A shape-shifter isn't going to be easy to find," Cordelia noted. "I suppose we could check with our sources. Maybe Merle knows something."

"Unlikely," Wes shook his head. "What information I was able to find indicates that this species is rather anti-social, even by demon standards. They're focused and ruthless. Whatever this one was after it must have believed that you, or rather whatever was controlling you, was a threat to it."

"Maybe that was the point of the bodyjacking," Gunn speculated.

"Meaning?" Wesley turned to the younger man and he and Brody waited expectantly.

"Well maybe whoever took your body out for a joyride needed to talk to this thing but didn't want to do it face to face."

"So we're looking for someone who's never heard of a telephone?" This time all three of the men gave Cordelia irritated looks. "Okay, sorry again. But think about it. Isn't it a lot of trouble to go to?"

"She's right," Brody nodded. "Why go to the trouble of taking over someone if there are easier ways?"

"Maybe it depends on where you're callin' from," Gunn speculated. "I mean if we are talkin' E.T. right?"

"Yes," Wesley nodded. "We are."

"You believe me now?" Brody asked.

Wesley nodded. "I've met the species before, only the one granted, but I believe they are indeed extraterrestrial." First order of business, he decided, was a call to Roswell. Hopefully Max Evans would have some answers. It would have to be done without their client's knowledge though. "Perhaps we should check with our usual sources anyway. We have very few leads at this point even if we do know what we're dealing with." He frowned. "It's unlikely, but we can't leave any avenue unexplored." He considered. "Gunn, Cordelia, I want you to go see Merle. He may have a lead on the shape-shifter. Take Mr. Davis with you. Perhaps he can fill in some details."

"You want us to take him to meet Merle?" Gunn sounded uncertain. "Might be a bit strange for him."

"No stranger than anything else that has happened. Later tonight I want him to meet the host. I have an idea about tracing the 'call.' Since that will mean taking him to Caritas…"

"You'd like a more gradual introduction," Cordelia surmised. "Yeah, that place is a lot to take in all at once." She gestured to Brody. "Come on. Time to meet your first demon." She got behind the wheel, much to Gunn's consternation. Not much frightened the seasoned demon hunter, but his colleague's driving was one of them. Brody got into the back seat and strapped himself in immediately, having had experience with Cordelia behind the wheel the night before. Cordelia started the engine as soon as Gunn reluctantly slid into the front passenger seat.

Wesley watched them leave before returning to his office to make his phone call.

**********************************************************************************

Larek opened his eyes slowly and checked the time. He had been out for almost a full day. The process was exhausting under normal circumstances, being forced to exert himself and his host body was downright dangerous. Personal risk aside, he really didn't want to have to find a new host to watch and communicate through. The one he had was perfectly situated and allowed him to monitor the Royal Four and keep them safe. 

He grimaced at that thought as he sat up. Keeping them safe was supposed to have been the protectors' job. What had become of the one called Nasedo he had no idea, there were indications that he was dead. The other, as unthinkable as it was, had apparently abandoned his duty.

It didn't seem possible. The protectors were created to serve the royal family. They were programmed to obey orders and protect Zan and the others at all costs. What could have caused it? Tracking down the last protector had been difficult to begin with, arranging a meeting, nearly impossible. Once it had become clear to the protector that he had been discovered however, he had, reluctantly, agreed to meet and had designated a suitably discreet location. At first Larek had assumed that it was a security measure, simply to ensure that enemies from the home world did not discover him. It seemed a bit much, but the protectors had been programmed to be paranoid when it came to the safety of their charges. For the sake of the Royal Four, Larek had agreed to the elaborate precautions for the meeting. The precautions had not been for their benefit, but Larek had not discovered this until he had arrived at the meeting place, having told no one in his household his business or even that he was communicating with someone on Earth. 

With no clue as to what was to come, Larek had taken control of the human host that had been prepared for him. Elaborate precautions had been taken to ensure that no one could trace the human's movements, and the journey had been made in secret to the location in the city called Los Angeles. Finding the spot had not been difficult with the protector's directions, and he had arrived at the designated time to find the other waiting for him in clothing designed to conceal his appearance. Larek had frowned briefly as something from his host's subconscious had burst into his mind. He received a series of images of individuals in similar dress, hiding in shadow. At first there was a sardonic feel to the memories. His host was amused by the imagery, something Larek found confusing. 

"Larek." It was not a question. The tone was flat and emotionless as was to be expected.

"Yes protector." Suddenly the feeling had changed. As Larek had approached the figure had moved back into the shadows, careful to keep his current form a secret. Suddenly there were alarm bells going off in his mind, again courtesy of his host. 

Throwing himself to the side so suddenly that Larek surprised himself saved him. The attack had come completely without warning, and Larek had found himself running for his life without having the slightest idea why. A glance over his shoulder showed him the protector close on his heels. He could feel the energy passing close to him as blast after blast of energy was directed towards him. He didn't understand why he was being attacked, but it didn't seem wise to stop and ask. His host echoed the sentiment, something that startled him, but he didn't slow down. Having his host killed while communicating in this manner wouldn't necessarily be fatal, but it would definitely be unpleasant. That knowledge and his host's survival instincts kept him ducking and weaving between the trees as he made his way up a rough trail. 

Breaking into a clearing at the top of the trail, he put on a burst of speed. The sound of a vehicle entering the clearing from another direction caused him to risk a look over his shoulder and nearly miss his footing, especially when the vehicle pulled directly in front of the protector, nearly running him down. The vehicle's operator leaned out the open window.

'Get in!" He took the time to notice that the human was female and not being controlled as he ducked into the rear seat. His human body acted of its own accord, operating the unfamiliar door mechanism with assurance. _Muscle memory_, he noted abstractly, acceleration slammed him back into the seat as the vehicle sped away, leaving a frustrated protector behind. "You okay?" the female asked distracting him from oddly detached thoughts of his host body's unusual reactions. There wasn't a great deal of research on humans in stressful situations or what effect that stress had on communication, but it was something he was suddenly very interested in. He refocused on the female who was trying to navigate a narrow passage between the trees, a passage obviously not intended for vehicles of any type.

"Ah, yes. I'm fine. Thank you for your help miss…"

"Chase. Cordelia Chase. You wanna tell me what that was all about?"

__

An excellent question. What had that been about? She was obviously expecting an answer of some sort. "I-I'm not certain… I… I have to go." His energy was fading fast thanks to the unexpected exertion and the chemicals his host body was releasing. Adrenaline, the detached, analytical part of his mind noted again. Focusing his will, he separated himself from his host and returned to his own body.

What had caused the protector to attack? It was inconceivable that he had abandoned his duty or betrayed the Royal Four. What other explanation could there be though? It was well known that Larek was a friend to them, he had helped make the hybrids living on Earth possible. There was no reason for one of the protector's to attack unless he was hiding something, something like a change of allegiance. The question became what to do about it. 

After some consideration he came to the conclusion that all he could do was try to learn more. He didn't have enough information to make a decision, and warning the Royal Four would be pointless until he knew what he was warning them of. The question was how to obtain the information. He couldn't take control of the host on Earth again so soon. He needed time to rest, and the stress of controlling the host again so soon could kill it. He would require a few more hours at least before he could risk it.

**********************************************************************************

Liz Parker answered the phone on the third ring. She was beat, literally and figuratively, and had not wanted to move from her bed after falling into it shortly after dawn. Max had been able heal the damage done by the black skinned, horn covered beast that she had spent most of the night hunting and killing, closing the gashes left by its claws and removing the bruises. The fatigue and general all over ache that went with it had been another matter. At least her parents hadn't freaked out as they would have if she'd come home covered in bruises and bleeding from multiple wounds, some of which hadn't been all that minor. She smiled when she thought of Max's worried face and the tenderness he'd displayed in treating her injuries. It had pained him that he hadn't been able to do more for her. 

She half expected to hear his voice at the other end of the line, checking on her. "Max?" she asked sleepily.

"Er, no, sorry, its Wesley actually." Liz sat up and focused on the voice. "I'm sorry to call out of the blue like this, but I need your assistance."

"That's okay, good to hear from you. How are things in L.A.?"

"Complicated. That's why I'm calling. I'm afraid this isn't social."

"Of course," a touch of something that could have been sarcasm or resignation crept into her voice. She wasn't sure which and she was too tired to care. "What do you need?" 

Wesley laid out the situation, filling her in on Brody's problem, and the discovery of the handprint. "It appears we're dealing with another shape-shifter. I was hoping that Max could offer some insight, but I was hesitant to approach him directly."

"You wanted me to ask him for you? Or if I knew anything that could help you myself?" 

"Max seems… distrustful of us and you are both, I realize, somewhat leery of Angel." Liz was silent for a moment, then sighed.

"All right. Shape-shifters." The words came out in a sigh of exasperation. "I'll talk to Max." She collected a few more details and said good-bye, then, reluctantly, forced herself up off the bed and went in search of Max. Wesley was right, they were leery of Angel. Liz didn't doubt that the Los Angeles demon hunters put it down to Spike's influence, but the truth was that Spike talked very little about the Sunnydale contingent and she could count on one hand the number of times he'd mentioned Angel.

It was the notion of the Watcher's Council that disturbed them most. Liz's inherited memories made her suspicious of anyone connected to them. The aliens were hesitant because of their experience with the FBI and were reluctant to get involved with anything smacking of covert operations.

Hawkins had done little to improve their opinion of the group. He had been in and out of Roswell several times over the past few months. Occasionally dropping tips about new demons in the area, and had loaned Liz some of his carefully marked books, but he was always careful to avoid anything that looked like giving orders. Liz knew that he was in regular contact with the Watcher's Council and was reluctant to have any dealings with him.

He had been useful though. Even Spike had to admit that, though no one doubted that he was simply trying to ingratiate himself, work his way into their confidence. Liz smiled ruefully as she pictured Michael's reaction to that observation. It hadn't been printable. 

The smile faded quickly though. It was likely that he would give up eventually on trying to win her over, but they felt certain he would stay at least until the treasure was found, determined that none of the parade of demons that had shown up looking for it would succeed. So far none of the demons, humans, or aliens looking for Cole's treasure had had any luck though. Every available avenue had been explored, but there was no sign of it. Kate didn't know where to look, and she had been on the trail longer than the Roswell group or the Council.

They had an idea of where to begin looking for the Granalith, but were reluctant to actually go there. The pod chamber had come to have some negative associations for them and they had delayed visiting it. Now they couldn't risk it. 

Secrets and lies. Fewer now that her parents knew about her role as the Slayer, but still, far too many secrets and lies. It had always been hard and dangerous, but the strain was telling more of late. Someone was investigating the aliens, taking an interest in their activities again. It had begun two months ago when Max had realized someone was following him. No one knew who it was, but it had happened often enough that the signs were unmistakable. It didn't feel like the FBI, the people watching them were not professionals. They had been circumspect, but rather clumsy, not clumsy enough to get caught at it, but they had been spotted often enough that the aliens had no doubts they were being spied on. 

They thought it might be the Skins, but then realized that their enemies from Antar wouldn't be so circumspect, and they suspected that Antar had it's own problems anyway. 

__

So much for the usual suspects, Liz thought grumpily as she made her way downstairs to the CrashDown, which was just finishing with the breakfast crowd. Liz wasn't too surprised to find Max and Isabel there. Max saw her peeking out of the kitchen and went to her. "Liz, you should be in bed."

"I got a call from Wesley," she cut him off in a soft urgent tone. "He's got a problem." Glancing around at her father, who had just noticed how haggard she looked, and at the customers who were just leaving. "It's something he thinks you might know about." Max frowned briefly, but nodded and followed her. Jeff Parker started to follow but Max raised a hand. A look passed between them and Max nodded reluctantly, silently assuring Liz's father that he wouldn't stay long.

"What's happened?" he asked, as so on as they were alone. Liz closed the door to her room before answering. 

"Brody is in L.A. Wesley thinks he's being stalked by a shape-shifter." Quickly, she explained the circumstances. "You said someone called Larek was using Brody to communicate."

Max nodded, thinking quickly. "There were supposed to be two shape-shifters on the ship, protectors. Nasedo said that the other was killed."

"You used the stones to bring Nasedo back. Maybe the government scientists didn't actually kill the other. Maybe they just thought they did."

"Or it could be somebody working for our enemies. Why would someone sent to protect us try to kill Larek? He said he was a friend back on Antar."

"Could he have been lying?"

Max considered, but shook his head. "I remember a few things. I think he was telling the truth, and besides he doesn't know that we don't have our memories." The pensive look on his face worried Liz and she didn't need flashes from him to know what was going through his mind. Sighing, she reached out to run her fingers through his hair.

"Don't worry. We'll work it out, somehow." She stepped close and hugged him, but he didn't relax. "I know you hate having to think like this, but we don't have a lot of options." Smiling up at him she again tried to get a response. "You do have family though, and good friends you know you can count on." He finally relaxed enough to return her hug.

"I'm tired of it Liz," he admitted. "I'm tired of having enemies who skulk around in shadows and supposed allies we can't trust. We're teenagers. We should have friends not allies. Rivals, not mortal enemies."

"It's pretty depressing at times," she admitted. "We have to deal though." 

"I know," Max nodded. "I just wish our lives could be normal." He frowned when Liz cocked a questioning eyebrow. "Don't say it."

"I wouldn't, but it is a little strange hearing that from you." Sighing, Max nodded, silently conceding the point. "Found out what's so great about normal the hard way didn't we?"

"Yeah, and its not just that no one tries to kill you on a regular basis." He shook off the mood. "All right. Let's deal then." He took a deep breath, composing himself before plunging back into the problem. "Wesley doesn't know about the summit. He doesn't know about Larek. So now Larek is in L.A. Why?"

"Wes said that the shape-shifter tried to kill him. A meeting like that couldn't be accidental. Larek must have gone looking for him. What for?"

"Good question," Max shrugged. "Here's another. Why has this guy stayed hidden? If he's supposed to protect the royal four where has he been?" Neither could come up with an answer to that. Max began to pace, thinking hard. "We know that they were left with certain… ideas about the way things work here after the summit. We know that Larek was a friend to Zan and the others."

"Things might have changed," Liz pointed out. "That was a long time ago Max." Her boyfriend nodded reluctantly, knowing it was something he had to consider. "Why would this… protector be hiding? What's he doing in L.A.?"

"Maybe," Max began hesitantly, "he-"

"Enough." A voice from the door stopped them. They turned to see Liz's father looking in at them. "Liz you look exhausted. I know the um… work you do is important, but can't this wait till after you get a few hours sleep?"

"D-dad. Um, how lo-"

"I wasn't eavesdropping. I just came to make sure you weren't going to leave again. I don't really want to know as long as you're careful, but I'm sure that whatever sort of demon a Larek is it can wait for a while." Liz resisted the urge to sigh with relief. Her father had tried to curb her activities, tried to make her give it up entirely, but quickly discovered that Liz had a will of her own and would not be denied. Keeping her locked up safe was not only impractical it was impossible.

"I'll get some sleep dad. This isn't urgent, just… complicated." She looked at Max and he nodded.

"I'll call him back with what we know." A brief kiss and he turned to leave the room. "Get some rest. I'll handle it."

Jeff Parker waited until Max said good-bye and shut the door. "_Do _I want to know?"

"It's a consultation, actually. A friend in L.A. called asking for information about a particular demon."

"So, its hundreds of miles away and someone else's problem?"

"Yes," Max answered, as confidently as he could. Anything involving a shape-shifter, he felt sure, would become their problem eventually. He said goodbye, picked up Isabel and left. Explaining the situation could wait until they were alone, and he needed her input. Isabel was handling the pressure better than he was. Where he was stressed, she was calm, or at least she was calmer than he was, more level headed. 

Isabel listened without interrupting as he explained the problem. "Brody's a nice guy," she said eventually. "It isn't fair to him that Larek uses him as a telephone. We should have used that stuff on him that Spike brought back from New York."

"We need him as a source of information. You remember the gundarium." 

"Doesn't make it right Max."

Her brother said nothing for a moment, but he couldn't meet her eyes. "I know, but-"

"But nothing," Isabel interrupted authoritatively. "You want to justify this in some way? Remember what happened when you justified letting Nasedo run loose, impersonating Pierce? How many people got killed?" She glared when his expression indicated to her that he was trying to rally a counter-argument. Isabel knew him too well to stand for it. "If you want someone to agree with you about this; go talk to Spike."

Max winced. That had hurt, and he had no answer to it. He knew Isabel was right, and he knew that Brody deserved normalcy as much as any of them. They had a way of giving him that, and they hadn't acted. Why? The answer was clear enough if he was honest with himself. He wasn't willing to completely cut his ties with Antar. He needed the news that Larek might bring, maintaining hope that something could be salvaged from the debacle in New York. He had told the truth that day. Earth was home, but he still felt a pull toward the distant planet, a responsibility for what happened there. 

It wasn't something he could explain in words. Spike had been right. There was nothing he could do for Antar, and the fact that there were people there who had expectations of him made him feel both guilty and resentful. _It's not fair!_ a small childish voice in his head whined. Max ignored it. Life wasn't fair. No news there and whining about it never changed anything. "I don't know what to do," he admitted. "Larek is our only source of information about Antar. What if we need him?"

"What if Sidney needs her father, and he's not there because some alien killed him to keep Larek from talking to us?" Again Max had no answer. Isabel waited a moment, then sighed. "It's your decision Max. You're the king." Her tone made it clear what she thought of that, "just don't fool yourself about your reasons." With that she got up from the park bench and moved away without a backward look. Isabel had had her say, and was leaving him with to wrestle with the decision. Despite her words, Max knew that she understood both sides of the problem. 

Grant Sorensen's death had hit her hard. She had liked him and it had made her furious to lose someone close to her to "that ridiculous flying jellyfish." Wanting to distance herself from Antar and anything that reminded her of it was understandable, but Isabel was practical as well, and she couldn't deny that Larek had helped to save the world. If they hadn't had access to him they might never have figured out what was happening. 

The arguments for and against chased themselves around his head for almost an hour, before he decided that he had to set them aside and solve the immediate problem. Returning home to an empty house he made a call.

**********************************************************************************

Wesley listened with only occasional interruptions, to Evans' tales of shape-shifters, his explanation of the abduction phenomenon and his story surrounding the summit. If he suspected that the alien, he still had trouble accepting that as images of 'bug-eyed monsters' continued to pop into his head when he considered the subject, was leaving something out he didn't let on. It was a fantastic tale, and Max had freely admitted there were parts of it that he didn't know, thus questions he couldn't answer. It was clear that there were things he wasn't saying and that what little he was revealing did not come easy. When he got to the part about the powder Spike had used Wesley perked up, once more on familiar ground.

"Yes, I'm familiar with the tale. I believe I have the formula here. It should solve Mr. Davis' problem-"

"Wait."

"What? Is there a problem?"

"I know about the powder. I even have some. Spike brought it back from New York."

"Why haven't you used it then?" he asked in confusion. Silence. "Max?"

"Larek has provided valuable information in the past. Information that has saved lives. Brody is my friend, but he and a lot of other people would have died if I hadn't had access to Larek." He hesitated, as if trying to decide how much to reveal. "The simple truth is that if he hadn't told us how to stop the gundarium it would have caused a plague that could have killed everyone on the planet. I don't think that severing that link is the right thing to do."

Wesley was silent for a moment. He didn't know how to respond to that. A plague? What on Earth had been going on in Roswell? "I see." Actually he didn't, Max had been quite vague about his connection to the other planet, whose name he had not even provided. The dilemma was clear enough though. Max didn't want to break his link to that planet, but he didn't want his friend to suffer either, and Brody Davis was suffering. "Perhaps it should be Mr. Davis' choice."

"I don't see how that's possible without telling him the truth."

"Perhaps you should tell him the truth then."

"That's not really an option. His reaction would be unpredictable."

"His reaction to someone he trusted using him? I can make a fair guess as to his reaction should he hear it from someone else, or discover it on his own." His tone was harsher than he intended. "He deserves a say in the matter."

"That's a strange reaction coming from a Watcher. Do your Slayers ever have a choice about acting for the greater good?" Max's response and his bitter tone cut him deeply, and Wesley couldn't muster the blistering response he wanted to deliver. The fact of the matter was that Max was at least partly correct. He could see the problem, and there was no easy answer for it. Slayers had no choice but to accept the lot they were handed. Brody Davis, while his circumstances were very different, had also had a part in saving lives. 

He sighed silently, taking a moment to compose his response. He didn't want to argue morality. Morality and practicality were not always compatible, in fact it seemed, they hardly ever were. "I can see the similarities, but it wasn't a higher power that chose Mr. Davis, merely someone with more power. There is a difference. If we can free him, we should." Max was silent for a time, perhaps regretting his words. Finally he seemed to reach a difficult decision.

"No. I don't know the rules. I don't know who they can take over or when or at what cost to themselves. Larek is an advantage I can't afford to lose, not unless I have those answers. It would leave us vulnerable."

Wesley bit back his first reaction at Max's commanding tone and assumption that he would be obeyed. Brody was in L.A. and had hired them to do a job. Max had no business giving orders, no matter how he justified them. There was another option though. "What if I can get them for you?" Wesley asked after a moment of silent consideration. 

"How?" Was that hope he heard in the teenager's voice?

"Leave that to me," Wesley answered confidently. "I'll let you know when we have the answers." He had enough information to put his half-formed plan into effect, and Max, whatever his role in Roswell had no business trying to give orders to him, and he certainly had no business deciding their client's fate.

**********************************************************************************

"That was… different." Brody had said nothing since meeting Merle. The demon had given him a polite enough greeting to which Brody had responded more or less automatically, but he couldn't manage much beyond that. The very fact that such creatures existed was incredible to him. Why wasn't it common knowledge? The conversation, which he had not participated in, indicated that there were entire demon communities. How could that be? Why didn't more people know about it? Or was he simply so wrapped up in alien matters that he missed what everyone else saw? Did people just take it for granted and never mention it to him or was it a secret that only a few people knew? Again, how could that be?

Brody shook his head. Questions he couldn't answer spun madly through his head and it was an effort to focus on the people who _could_ answer them. "So that was a demon?"

"Yeah," Gunn answered casually, not realizing that their client's worldview was teetering madly. "Don't get spun about it man. Most people don't know because they don't wanna know."

"Yeah," Cordelia chimed in. "They have nice safe lives into which demons don't intrude and they ignore anything that might make them feel unsafe."

"It's hard to accept," Brody insisted, shaking his head. "Creatures like that are common it seems but a secret as well?" Cordelia just shrugged helplessly, having no better idea than he did. Brody set the issue aside with effort. "Well, I'm afraid I didn't understand much of that. Did we learn anything?"

"'Fraid not," Gunn answered. "He knows a couple of shape shifting types, but none that match the exact descrip. He'll ask around though." The fact that the two detectives seemed so blasé about the entire incident did nothing to help his self-confidence. They weren't mocking him at least, which, in a way didn't help matters. They didn't pity him either though, which did. It was a bizarre feeling.

"What's our next step?"

"Unless Wes has come up with something we probably go to the host."

"You mentioned something called Caritas?"

"Yeah, it's a demon bar. The host runs it."

He thought back to his high school Latin. "A demon bar called 'Mercy?'"

"Long story behind that," Cordelia smiled. "The host likes to tell it himself though."

Brody sat back and watched the city pass by, trying to wrap his brain around the concepts he'd been exposed to in the last few hours. Demons existed. Bars owned and patronized by demons, existed. And lest he not forget, possession by demons. It was all too much to take in. Did that invalidate the existence of aliens? Mr. Wyndham-Price didn't seem to think so. He didn't know if it made any difference whether it was demons or aliens. Didn't it come to the same thing? Someone was usurping his life, stealing time from him and causing him no end of personal problems. He had good friends in Roswell though, friends who understood and believed him. That helped. Max and his sister had even tried to help him get to the bottom of it. It hadn't gone as planned, but he had appreciated their effort nonetheless.

Brody had been skeptical about Isabel's claim to be psychic, but then a rumor had reached him about her involvement in the case that ended Sheriff Valenti's career. The fact that he couldn't explain why she was with him when they had found that girl or how he had known where to look had led officials to suspect that he was somehow involved. 

Valenti had never told them anything about Isabel, probably, Brody realized because claiming that a psychic had led him to the missing girl wouldn't have helped his case. The world was a far stranger place than he had believed, and that was saying a lot. In such a world, he reflected, it was important to have people one could trust. 

His reverie was interrupted by their arrival at the agency. They found Wesley looking distinctly unhappy. "What's up Wes?" Gunn asked, noting his friend's expression. "You find something?"

"Yes," he sighed in frustration. "Quite a bit." He scowled, furious with Max Evans for making him doubt himself. The alien's attitude was one he had seen often enough in the Council, something he also hated to be reminded of. The ends justify the means. There were times when it seemed that that should have been the Council's motto, one he once embraced whole-heartedly when he was one of them. Meeting Buffy and her friends had changed that, and working with Angel had finished what their influence had begun. 

He no longer believed it, but he understood it, and he felt that, as Brody had put it, he was in no position to cast stones. At the moment he heartily detested Max Evans for reminding him of that. Slayers were dispensable. Individuals were dispensable. It was the struggle and the survival of the whole that mattered. What was one person when compared to that? 

It had taken time for him to fully realize the fundamental error in that kind of thinking. The whole was made up of individuals, innocents and otherwise who needed to be protected by those who consciously made the decision to do so. Slayers got a raw deal there was no denying that, but most, like Buffy had risen to the challenge. 

He looked around at his friends, at those who had made the choice and risen to the challenge. It made him proud to work with them. Angel, Cordelia, and Gunn were the bravest people he knew. They had made the choice to fight, to try to make a difference. Brody had not. He was simply a tool for the creature that called itself Larek. Perhaps Larek wasn't a bad person, and perhaps he had aided them in some way, but that didn't make using a human in such a way right. He hoped Max realized that and understood. 

"You gonna share with the rest of us?" Angel asked bringing Wesley out of his reverie. 

"Yes of course. Let's talk in my office." He led the way, taking his place behind the desk. "I can't reveal the source of my information without breaking a promise, but I can tell you what is happening." Without mentioning Max or any of the Roswell group, he laid out the situation as he knew it. Brody listened, going pale and then growing angry by turns as Wesley laid out the facts behind his abductions. 

"Larek may be concerned that his colleagues here on Earth are in danger. My source believes that he attempted to contact this shape-shifter, a protector he called it, for some reason. He's not sure why, and there's no way of knowing why the protector attacked him." He broke off, frustrated. "Frankly he wasn't that forthcoming. I have a lot of unanswered questions myself. What we do know is that Larek has at least some of those answers."

"So let me get this straight," Brody began slowly. "This Larek takes over my body, like remote control, so he can talk to other aliens here on Earth. He did this a few months ago so he could attend a meeting?" Wesley nodded. "At that meeting, a demon put in an appearance and warned the aliens to stay away from Earth." Again Wesley nodded. "So why did Larek come back?"

"Maybe he didn't take the warning seriously," Angel opined. "We can fix that."

"What about this powder? I'm not sure I understand…"

"Well, it seems the demon in question brought along a powder made of various herbs that, when inhaled by the person being controlled causes a kind of allergic reaction. The possessing entity is expelled and if the stories are correct, the person becomes an unsuitable host from that point forward."

"So why wasn't the powder used on everyone? There were several people at this meeting I take it. People being controlled like me?"

"According to the stories surrounding the original use of the powder the sorcerers using those hosts suffered violent reactions to being expelled and several died. Those that didn't were rendered comatose and later killed by their victims while helpless. It's possible that the demon who crashed the summit wanted to leave the delegates alive to deliver his message."

"That makes sense," Brody acknowledged grudgingly. "Can you mix this powder?" Wesley nodded. "Good, I want this stopped."

"It might kill Larek," Wesley reminded him. "According to my source he isn't evil, merely indifferent to your situation. I don't think he sees you as a person."

"Oh well, that makes all the difference doesn't it?" Wesley raised a placating hand at their client's tone.

"I merely mean that he isn't malicious. He's not deliberately trying to hurt you. I have most of the ingredients I need here. I can have the powder ready fairly quickly, but we will need to have Larek here before we can use it, and I believe it would be a good idea to take advantage of that and get some answers to your questions before… slamming the door in his face?"

Brody calmed down and considered. Then he nodded slowly. "All right, but do we have to wait for him to make an appearance? I can never predict when this is going to happen."

"I believe we can initiate contact from this end, but I should warn you that it might be dangerous for you."

"What do you mean?"

"We don't know what kind of stresses are involved. Trying to initiate contact from this end might put a strain on your heart. You are young and healthy, but it is impossible to predict the results. We know next to nothing about the process or the means involved."

"Understood, but if I can put an end to this I'll take the risk."

"Very well." He rose to his feet. "We'll head for Caritas as soon as I have the powder ready." The meeting broke up and Cordelia made a point of taking Brody aside distracting him while Wesley worked, and Angel made a phone call.

It wasn't easy for him, turning to Spike for help, but he needed details. His childe had apparently pulled off an impressive con job at the alien summit, the notion still gave him pause, and he needed to know precisely what happened.

The other vampire was somewhat cranky at being roused in the middle of the afternoon, but when Angel explained his reason for calling, Spike cheered up immensely. Gritting his teeth he forced himself to listen without interruption to Spike's gloating account of how he had single-handedly saved the day. Devising the plan, fetching the magic powder, creating a distraction for the dupes' leader, and finally by putting on an academy award winning performance for the benefit of their alien 'guests.'

"Anything else I can help you with Angel?" His tone skipped across condescending as a stone might skip across the surface of a pond, but he didn't sink, knowing that it would annoy Angel all the more if he behaved in a professional manner.

"No, that should do it," Spike noted with satisfaction the reluctant approval in Angel's voice. Although he would never admit it, his sire was impressed. "Thanks for your help." They rang off quickly, Spike to gloat privately and Angel to do some thinking about how to act on the new information. 

He had to admit he was surprised, perhaps amazed would be a better word. To anyone who knew him, the idea of Spike speaking for the Powers That Be would have been absurd, and yet somehow he had carried it off in front of a room full of, presumably, highly intelligent aliens. He shook his head in wonder. Angel wasn't sure if he would have handled it the same way, but at this point all he could do was try to back the other vampire's play. The question was how best to do it. 

Beyond ensuring the safety of their client, the first priority was answers. There was a lot they didn't know about the aliens. Scaring them off was all well and good, but it was a short-term solution. How to get the answers though? What could they say to Larek that would convince him to cooperate? Maybe…

**********************************************************************************

"This is way outside my area of expertise," Lorne protested. "I mean tracing an alien mind-control signal?"

"Tell me about it," Gunn rolled his eyes. "When did our lives turn into something by Spielberg?"

"As opposed to something by King?" Cordelia asked deadpan. Gunn shrugged, seeing her point.

"Well its different anyway." No one could dispute that and no one tried to as they settled in at the bar at Caritas. Brody looked around at the variety of demons. He counted at least six different species drinking and socializing.

"Quite a sight isn't it?" Brody turned to find the smiling host watching him. "New to the demon scene huh?" Brody nodded, at a loss for words. "If you're looking for a handle on the moment it might help to remember that, at the core, demons, at least the more peaceable species aren't all that different."

"Unfortunately," Angel put in from his other side, "there aren't that many peaceable species." He pointed. "That guy over there has a taste for babies." He pointed to another table where a group of figures that might have passed for human if it weren't for the ridges and fangs sat drinking something thick and red. "Those are vampires. Outside these walls, if you see one, run." Again he pointed, but Lorne grabbed his wrist.

"I think he gets the idea." He turned back to Brody with his best reassuring manner. "This place is a haven. Violence is not permitted here. I make sure everyone knows that when they come in, it prevents unpleasant surprises." He looked at Angel, rather annoyed. "There's no need to terrify him. I need to start the show soon. We should get on with this. You want to take him in the back room?" Angel nodded.

Brody, feeling overwhelmed, followed, casting worried glances at the tables scattered about the room. "What exactly do you intend to do?"

"We think that Lorne here can contact Larek, think of it as a supernatural *69," Cordelia suggested, which did nothing to explain what was happening. Brody put it aside. He had little choice but to trust these people if he wanted to get answers and get his life back to something resembling normal. Which reminded him.

"Do you have the camera?" He glanced at the group's leader, and Wesley nodded, holding up a small camcorder. "I want this all on film, and I still wish I had access to my equipment so I could have a better idea of what's happening. I never remember these 'possessions' afterwards."

"Well this time you will at least have a visual record," Wes assured him. "We should begin." He looked at the host. "Lorne?"

"All right," the green skinned demon guided him to a couch. "First I'll need an idea of what I'm up against here. Why don't you sing a few notes for me?"

"What?" That was unexpected.

"Well," Lorne shrugged. "Normally people do this out in the club, in front of the audience, but under the circumstances I thought a private performance would be better."

"You want me to sing?" Brody asked incredulously. He glanced at the others and at the camera. The others all looked quite serious.

"Lorne reads auras," Angel supplied, "but he can only do it if you're singing."

"Hence the karaoke bar," Cordelia supplied helpfully. "It's a service he provides, helping guide people, reading their auras and giving advice."

"Ookay," Brody said slowly when she stopped as if that explained everything or anything. "I'm not very good," he warned. Cordelia turned her snicker into a cough and Gunn clenched his jaw.

"Don't be concerned about that," Angel said shooting his friends venomous looks. "You don't have to be." He glanced at the host for support and the green skinned demon smiled and nodded.

"Just a few notes will do. This isn't Carnegie Hall."

"Very well," he answered hesitantly. He took a breath and sang a verse of a favorite childhood song much to Lorne's delight.

"I do love those old ballads," he smiled. "Hmm. Interesting."

"What is?" 

"Keep going," Lorne urged, concentrating with his head cocked. Brody shrugged bowing to the absurd, and finished the song as Lorne nodded and frowned. "Okay. This is interesting."

"What?" asked Brody when the demon broke off, frowning.

"It's like there are blanks in your life."

"I could have told you that," he sounded irritated.

"You misunderstand," Lorne hastened to explain. "Sleep or even coma doesn't leave the kind of gaps I'm seeing here. Someone else's life is… 'overlaying' yours. I gotta admit, I've never seen anything like it."

"Can you trace the call?" Angel asked impatiently. Lorne nodded. "Well, no time like the present."

The host drew a deep breath and nodded. "Okay, here goes," Brody drew back as Lorne reached for him. "Take it easy. Just relax and leave the driving to me."

Brody was still unsure, but he tried to relax as Lorne spoke soothingly in a gentle, droning tone as if trying to hypnotize him. Hypnotism had never worked before; he had always made a very poor subject. He didn't know how similar what Isabel had tried was to hypnotism, but it hadn't worked any better. He had awakened with a lump on his head and a dull pain in his chest. She hadn't gone into details, merely said that it hadn't worked. Now it seemed, the green-skinned demon was trying something similar. For the sake of accomplishing his goal he tried to suspend disbelief for a time and hope that it worked.

There was no gradual dozing off, no heaviness in the eyelids; suddenly he was simply… gone.

**********************************************************************************

Pain, shock, and disorientation. The pain came from the heart that beat rapidly and somewhat erratically in his chest, he took steps to slow it, and restore its natural rhythm. The shock at suddenly finding himself in an unfamiliar place faded as he was forced to concentrate on restoring the normal cardiopulmonary function of his host. It was almost automatic, but the realization of what he was doing allowed him the focus to examine his surroundings and overcome the disorientation.

Someone on Earth had initiated contact. That he couldn't tell whom and didn't know why was alarming, but he knew it wouldn't help his situation to panic. As his host body's functions slowly returned to normal, he examined what he could of his surroundings without moving. Judging by the surface he was lying on and what he could see of the room's decoration, it appeared to be a small private chamber, perhaps in someone's home. 

"Whoooaah!" Larek turned his head to one side as his borrowed form resumed normal function and he was able to take full control. "Was that good for you?" The voice was tinged with sarcasm so Larek ignored the question, one that made no sense anyway, and simply stared at the speaker. He found himself looking into the grimacing face of an alien of a completely unfamiliar species.

"What happened?" A safe question. Perhaps the alien didn't know about him, and still believed that he was addressing the host form. 

The alien's grimace became a smirk. "You've been abducted by aliens cupcake. Kind of ironic wouldn't you say?" This statement did little to clarify his situation. His confusion must have shown as he slowly sat up, staring at the strange countenance. 

"Welcome to Earth Larek," another voice spoke up, and he turned to find himself facing a vampire. The facial ridges and teeth were prominently displayed, just as the other's had been when he killed Maras. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you were told to stay off of Earth when you and your alien buddies got together in New York. Why did you come back?"

Now his situation was clear. Quickly, he reviewed his options. If they'd pulled him to Earth once they could do it again, and his host might not survive another such treatment. Fleeing was out, but the idea of being interrogated by these creatures was far from appealing. The one at the conference had threatened to trap the next person they found on Earth and torture the host to death. Larek didn't know any more than the vampire had if it would be fatal to an Antarean. Cooperation seemed his best bet, or at least the appearance of cooperation. 

A lie might best serve him, but he didn't know enough about his current circumstances to know which lie to tell. Instead he opted for the truth. "I needed to know more about your world. At the summit, friends of mine elected to stay on Earth. I wanted to know what they were getting themselves into."

The vampire seemed surprised at the answer, or perhaps just at the honesty. "Tell me about these friends."

Larek hesitated, not sure how much they knew. "They've made a home here, and don't want to go back to Antar. Zan said as much at the summit."

"So he did," Angel nodded, remembering Spike's description of the meeting and knew that Zan was Max Evans. "You wanted to know if they would be safe here?" Larek nodded, and Angel considered, not sure how to tell if the alien was lying. He noticed the other's eyes moving around the room, taking note of the people present. "How do I know that's true?" he asked, drawing Larek's attention back to himself. "You could easily be scouting our world, making preparations to attack us."

Larek seemed genuinely shocked by the idea. "We have no intention of attacking Earth. My world is too wrapped up in its own problems even if we wished to do so." He paused to consider the best way to continue. Honesty still seemed the best policy. "My only concern is my friends. I know from conversations I've had with them that they want nothing more than to live in peace here."

The alien was still telling the truth. Spike had told him of the bickering and recriminations at the meeting and doubted that a planet in the middle of a civil war could pull it together to attack anyone. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt for the moment," Angel allowed, "but given their track record, the 'wishes' of those four don't seem to factor into it. What makes them so important?" When Larek hesitated Angel allowed a slight growl to enter into his voice. "Answer the question." Larek decided to continue to answer honestly but carefully. It seemed to be working so far; at least he hadn't been killed as Maras had.

"They were Antar's royal family," he began hesitantly. "Zan, our king, was overthrown by K'var, an ambitious political rival."

"Your 'royal family' are teenagers. The ship crashed more than 50 years ago. Explain."

"Now, now, let's keep this mellow. No reason to terrorize the man." Lorne stepped in playing the good cop as planned. That it was his nature to do so helped immensely. He turned to Larek. "It is a bit confusing."

Larek nodded, his gaze shifting between the two. "Zan, his sister Vilondra, his wife, Ava and his second-in-command, Rath, were all killed in the war. Loyalists managed to preserve their bodies and remove DNA samples that were later mixed with samples taken from humans."

"So they're hybrids," Lorne concluded. "Clones grown here on Earth?" Larek nodded. There was a lot more to it than that, but he wasn't about to volunteer any details. The plan to save and eventually bring back the Royal Four had been a brilliant one, meticulously planned. They were the best hope Antar had for getting rid of K'var. The only ones that Antar's fractious population would unite behind. The four of them were to be hidden away on Earth, educated and trained in seclusion, away from K'var's spies and the local inhabitants. 

The crew had included specially created soldiers as bodyguards and the best tutors and technicians available. Zan could finish the education interrupted by his father's death. More importantly he could learn from his mistakes and be the kind of king their world needed. When they matured, and were once again at the height of their power they would be brought home to overthrow K'var.

No one was really sure at what point the entire carefully laid out plan had gone straight to hell. 

He had no plans to share this with the vampire either. It didn't seem necessary anyway. "So your royal family didn't turn out the way you expected. They don't want to go home. I know they've lived as humans for a long time now."

"They only came to our attention a year or so ago," Lorne contributed. "They've been living quietly for years. No reason they can't continue to do so."

"They draw trouble," Angel insisted. "Outsiders who don't know what they're fooling with. Do I need to remind you what could have happened if Nicholas had freed Devarri?" Lorne shook his head mutely and glanced back at Larek.

"Can't argue with that, but I would say that, for the moment it isn't important. It wasn't anyone local who tried to kill you last night. What happened?" Lorne had on his best commiseration face. It was a look he had practiced and perfected over the years and both humans and demons responded to it. Larek seemed to relax.

"I needed more information about your world. I wanted to know what Zan was getting himself into, so I sought out someone who could give me those answers." Perhaps he would get away with being vague.

"Another alien," Angel said bluntly. "One who's lived on Earth since the crash." Larek blinked, surprised. "Did you think we wouldn't know?" Angel's tone grew harsh. "It's another shape-shifter, like the one that went by the name of Nasedo. That one killed a dozen innocent people that we know of."

Perhaps not. "He is a protector," Larek sighed. "It was his duty to ensure the safety of the royal family while they were here. I don't know the details of what has happened since they came. It's all I can do to keep an eye on the Four, and I can only do that rarely."

"Why did he attack you?"

"I don't know," Larek answered with honest confusion. "I can't think of any reason except that he has betrayed his service."

"You think he's working for your enemies?" Lorne asked.

"I don't know. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but…" he trailed off, having no idea how to answer questions that he himself didn't know how to ask. Betrayal should have been impossible. The protectors were programmed to obey orders. They were certainly not allowed to harm the Royal Four. "I don't understand it."

"How did you contact this 'protector'? Where is he?"

"You don't know?"

Lorne snorted in amusement. "How does one find a shape-shifter that doesn't want to be found?" Larek frowned and Angel maintained a studiously neutral face despite being a little annoyed with the host over the admission.

Larek considered carefully. He couldn't find the protector again. Precautions would have been taken by now, even if the protector had stayed in the same city, highly unlikely, it would be impossible to contact him again. "I don't know how to find him," he answered truthfully. "He won't allow me to track him the same way again."

"How did you find him the first time?" Angel asked.

"Hard to explain," Larek hedged. "I'm not sure that it would work for you. He kept a certain device with him so he can communicate with Antar if he needs to, but he never used it. Tracking the equipment is impossible if you don't know the precise frequency at which it operates. It was not intended to receive signals, only to send them. The modifications necessary to send him a message would have damaged the communicator. It is repairable, but if he does not want to be found…."

"He would alter the frequency or simply destroy the device," Angel guessed. Larek nodded.

The vampire fell silent, considering. "We'll deal with the shape-shifter if it becomes necessary," he concluded. "The question right now is what to do with you." He considered silently for a time, Larek stayed silent, unsure of what to say or how to influence the vampire's decision. "It would be easy enough to use the powder, as we did on the other one," he mused. "How is he by the way?"

"Dead," Larek answered flatly. Angel seemed surprised by this, but hid it quickly, and Larek wondered what that meant. Was Maras' death unintentional? Perhaps the reaction had been stronger than they had anticipated. Would it make a difference in how they handled him?

"Terrific," Angel sighed, considering. He didn't really want to kill Larek, not if the alien was really just interested in the safety of his friends. He took the alien by surprise with his next words. "Tell me about the blue crystals." It took Larek a moment to realize what the vampire was talking about. Then he remembered that Zan had described the gundarium in much the same way. How would they know about that? Were the Royal Four under surveillance? It would make a certain amount of sense. What did it mean to him though? What did it mean to Zan and the others?

"The gundarium is harmless under controlled conditions, but when it was accidentally released into Earth's ecosystem it began to do precisely what it was designed to do in captivity. It tried to combine human and alien cells. Unfortunately without those controls the process got out of hand. It would have become an unstoppable plague if it hadn't been destroyed." Angel gestured for him to continue. "Zan contacted me and asked for information about the gundarium. I didn't know if he could stop it in time."

"Well he did," Lorne put in smiling.

"Which is why," Angel allowed, "we cut them some slack even though they brought the problem here in the first place." He waved away the alien's objection. "I don't care which alien's fault it is. If all you want is assurance that they'll be safe here then take this for what its worth. The Powers will take no direct action against them as long as they continue to behave. The best thing you can do to help them is to convince your own people to stay away from Earth. Are we clear?"

Larek nodded, realizing that it was the only out he had. Had someone told him even a year ago that Zan would abandon Antar and settle in to a 'normal' life on Earth he would never have believed it. The young king had always had an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. Casting that responsibility aside was simply not in his nature. 

This left him with even more questions, but they were questions he would never have the answers to if they killed him. "I will do what I can to see that his wishes are carried out, but there are some who will still wish to use them for political gain." He hurried on at Angel's expression. "It would be best if I could maintain a line of communication with them. Warn them if they are in any danger. That would minimize any trouble."

"If you're asking if you can keep using this host," Angel growled, "the answer is no. Does Zan have a device like the -shifter's?" Larek nodded. "Use that. While we're on the subject," he continued, his tone lightening, "I want you to answer some questions for me about your technology." 

He began to question Larek about the 'abductions' determined to learn as much about the process as possible. Larek quickly realized the reasons behind the questions, and understood what was at stake. Since he had little to lose by answering the questions he did so without hesitation, providing enough information to satisfy the vampire, but not offering details. Finally he seemed satisfied, and the questions stopped. 

After a moment's consideration Angel said "Since a dead messenger is useless, we won't use the powder, but there are other ways to keep you out." At least Angel hoped there were. He didn't know if the powder would be fatal in every case or if the alien at the conference had simply been an exception. Either way it seemed wrong to risk killing Larek, as his intentions seemed relatively benign.

"Using this host…"

"Is unacceptable," Angel cut him off. "Your visits disrupt and endanger his life. He wants you stopped." He paused to allow the note of finality in his voice to sink in. "I have a certain amount of discretion as to how to do that. Don't make me rethink my decision." He turned to Lorne. "You know what I need." The green skinned demon nodded and Angel moved away to give him some space.

"Now then," Lorne sat down on a footstool next to the couch. "You seem a little put out by your friend's decision. Having trouble understanding why he'd want to stay huh?" Larek frowned, not sure what to make of this. I can understand his decision. It's really a great place. At least compared to my world it is."

"You're not from this world?" 

"Oh no. There are plenty of different types native to this world, but I'm not one of them. My world." He shook his head. "Miserable place. Wrap your brain around this if you can. On my world, there is no music." Larek stared at him. "Hard to believe I know, but true." Larek nodded, not at all sure what to make of this strange admission or where the conversation was leading. "It's just an example of the wonders this world has to offer. I'm guessing your friend Zan found something here that means as much to them as music does to me." Not knowing what to make of this Larek said nothing. "I'd like you to do something for me before we send you on your way." Larek nodded not sure how much more cooperation he could offer. "I'd like you to sing."

"Sing?" That was not what he had expected. "Sing what?"

"Doesn't matter," Lorne shrugged. "Anything will do." He considered. "Something from your planet might be interesting." 

"Why?" He couldn't fathom the reason for the request. What could they gain by it? The request was either frivolous or alien and incomprehensible. His confusion must have shown in his face. The green skinned alien shrugged.

"Any race that can produce music can't be all bad," he responded reasonably. "I want to learn about you and a song will help me do that, get a clear read on you." That was true enough, but Lorne wasn't about to elaborate about what he wanted to learn. Larek glanced at the vampire who rolled his eyes skyward.

"Humor him," he snapped, "so we can wrap this up."

However strange, the request seemed harmless, although what the alien had meant by a 'clear read' was anything but clear. He was eager to be away though so didn't object further. Larek wasn't quite sure how to fulfill the request though. His host body didn't have the equipment to produce what he considered a song. "I can't do that with this body, but…" He thought a moment and then, feeling rather foolish, began to make a warbling atonal sound that left everyone staring at him. He went on for a nearly twenty seconds before the alien raised his hand.

"That's enough." He turned to the vampire. "Got it." He rose and smiled at Larek. "He's sincere. He would like to convince the Royal Four to go home though. He's convinced they could bring peace back home. Things are pretty bad back there." Angel nodded thoughtfully.

"He's told us the entire truth?"

"Yeah, about everything. There were a few things he held back, but nothing really relevant." Lorne glanced at the stunned alien then back at Angel. "Could you give us a minute?" Angel nodded and left the room followed by Wes and Gunn. "I also know you're feeling conflicted about your old friend," he said with a gentle smile. "You can't quite bring yourself to think of him as selfish, you know he isn't, but he's not acting in what you think is a responsible manner." When Larek didn't answer Lorne sighed. "My name is Lorne, I guide people. That's why I asked them to leave. You need to work this out for your own sake." He let Larek think about it for a moment, then he prompted gently, "Zan?"

"He doesn't remember," Larek said quietly. "He hasn't been prepared properly." 

"He's not the same person you remember, is he?" Larek shook his head.

"I see… echoes of my friend, but little more. I can't expect this new person to have the same priorities, the same conscience." 

Lorne considered this. "Zan always acted for the greater good?"

"It was hard to tell sometimes, but yes."

"But he isn't now." Lorne nodded silently, his tone suggesting that he had doubts about Larek's own belief in that statement. "Tell me something, honestly cause I'll know if you're lying. Would their presence on Antar really help at this point?"

Larek stared at him silently for a time. He didn't know how the alien had done that, but he feared giving up more information. The concern seemed sincere, but it was hard to tell with aliens, especially a species he'd never met before. It was possible he had no more secrets from this creature. The green-skinned alien was waiting. "Perhaps not, but we'll never know will we?"

"That's up to them," Lorne answered. "You know that, and I don't think you really blame them for wanting to stay out of it."

"Perhaps not, but again, we'll never know if they could have made a difference." He was silent a moment. "Are we done?" 

"I want you to see something before you go. Come with me." Carefully Larek stood and moved toward the door. They went out into a short hall that led to a large common room, obviously some sort of drinking establishment. "I want you to see what's so special about this place." The room was packed with aliens of varied type. "I've got a show to put on. I'll leave you with Cordy." Larek turned at his gesture to find himself facing the woman who had rescued him the night before.

"Have a seat," she beckoned. "This'll be worth your time." He stared at her as he lowered himself into the chair. "Don't look so surprised," she smiled. "Do you really think it was a coincidence that I turned up to help you? The Powers sent me."

"What are these Powers?" He might as well gain some insight while he was here.

"Good question. All I know about them is that they send me visions that lead me to things they want done, usually some big bad they want squashed. I don't know that much about them. Like Doyle used to say I'm just a messenger." She nodded at Angel near the bar. The vampire looked more human now, but didn't look anymore pleased with Larek's presence. "Him, he's the message." 

Larek didn't understand that, but didn't have time to dwell on it. The green-skinned one had mounted a stage at the end of the room. "Welcome all to Caritas! We've got some new faces in the audience tonight and I'm always happy to see new faces." He looked over the room with pride. "We've got it all here. The best and worst of this world, from the noble champions whose duty it is to protect the people to the blood-thirsty demons who lurk in shadows waiting to rip out your throat and everything in between. There's a sense of endless possibilities in the randomness of life and the feeling that there is a plan about it all, and isn't that what makes this world great? Isn't that why we love it?" There were murmurs of agreement and approval. Then the sounds rose as the host swung into a rendition of 'I Will Survive.' It was a favorite among the regulars.

Larek stared at the scene before him for a moment and then turned back to his companion. "What is this place?"

"This is Caritas. It means 'mercy'. It's a place where humans and demons get together. There are people of all sorts here, some pretty vicious monsters, but they all get together here to drink and sing, and ask the host for guidance."

"The host?" Cordelia indicated the green-skinned alien. "Guidance?"

"He reads souls, helps people find their path. Offers advice based on what he sees in you when you sing." She snickered at his expression. "Hard to believe, I know, but it's true, and he's okay really. I've never known him to abuse anyone's trust."

So that's what the host had meant by a 'clear read.' He hadn't exactly been duped, but he still wasn't happy. "A useful talent," he admitted. Cordelia glanced sharply at him, picking up on his mood.

"Don't misunderstand. The Powers wouldn't have sent me to you if they didn't want you alive, but that doesn't mean-" Larek held up a hand.

"I believe I understand." He considered a moment. "What I don't understand is why you showed me this. The gathering is… unusual, but I'm not sure what it's meant to show me."

"There's a lot more to Earth than you knew isn't there?" He nodded. "Maybe even things to learn here?"

He frowned. "I'm not sure I follow." Cordelia shrugged.

"Think about it."

"Think about it," Angel repeated, "on your way home."

**********************************************************************************

Brody switched off the tape off. Then glanced down at the charm he wore around his neck. "So you let him go." They had reconvened at the hotel so Brody, who had awakened at the table in Caritas, could watch the tape. 

"Yes, he isn't an evil creature, the host saw that when he read him. We weren't willing to kill him. I'm sorry if that disappoints you." Brody stared angrily at Wesley for a moment, insulted by the assumption. "That charm will protect you, keep him from coming back. I believe that it was the right thing to do."

"I'm not angry, I didn't want him dead, but it seems he's getting off too easy." He looked at the tape again. "The answers I got will help a lot of people. There are others who could use charms like this. I think I can track them down, if I can remember what happened at that conference." He considered for a moment. "What about this Royal Four?"

"What about them?" Wesley asked. "If they want to live in peace on Earth do you really have any objection? Or any right to?"

"How do you know their intentions?" he asked. "Has the host read them too?" Wesley shook his head. "Then if it's all the same to you I'll continue to worry." He rose from the couch and looked around at the staff of Angel Investigations. "Thank you all for what you've done. I have to do the rest now. There are contacts, groups of abductees that can benefit. I'm heading back to Roswell on the next flight."

He didn't tell them, didn't see the need, that he had seen more on the tape than perhaps they had realized. _Teenagers. The Royal Four. It can't be, but…_ He shook his head and focused on the facts he had, especially on the four names, Zan, Vilondra, Ava, and Rath. Perhaps they did just want to live in peace, but that didn't mean that what they and the people on their planet had put him and so many others through was right, and if they were who he suspected... He didn't want to think about that.

Whoever… whatever they were he now knew their names and had at least a few facts. They had used him. How could anyone who used humans as tools be considered good or harmless? Maybe they were simply thoughtless, rather than malicious as Wyndham-Price had claimed. Perhaps if he knew the full story he would forgive them. Maybe, maybe not, but regardless, he would remember their names.

NOT THE END


End file.
